


hold me tonight

by thewayofthetrashcompactor (BriarLily)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), POV Multiple, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-18 14:32:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13683624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BriarLily/pseuds/thewayofthetrashcompactor
Summary: The Battle of Crait wasn't the end of anything. Rey and Kylo are still bound in a way that neither of them fully understand, not to mention the struggle to figure out what a soul mark means for people on opposite sides of a war. And their connection isn't something that's easy to keep hidden from everyone around them.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SaintHeretical](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaintHeretical/gifts).



> Thank you very much to Saint Heretical for such creative and inspiring prompts! And thank you for being a part of this exchange. <3 I really loved all three of your prompts, so I've brought some of each of them in here. I hope you enjoy!

“Do you have something, a cowl or something you could put on.” Once she realizes his state of undress, she looks away quickly. This is too intimate, too much. It was better not to see the man behind the mask. But he stands there, unmoving, and she hadn't looked away quickly enough to miss the mark on his chest. Not the crater at his side from Chewbacca’s bowcaster, or her mark that trails down to his shoulder, or the other scattered scars across the wide expanse of his pale skin. What catches her attention is the small, dark symbol on the left side of his chest, over where his heart should be. ‘If he had one,’ she thinks viciously to herself, but that’s harder and harder to believe. 

“Why did you hate your father?” she finally manages to say, after he refuses to react. “Give me an honest answer.” She raises her head to look at him, refusing to be intimidated. Her eyes are immediately drawn back to that symbol, like the pull of a black hole, with the same sense of foreboding. It's there, just as she remembers, a design she's as familiar with as the sands of Jakku. She's traced those lines on her own skin, in the same place on her chest, dark ink as much a part of her as the freckles scattered over her arms. A twelve pointed star, four long arms with two short points between each of them, the top and bottom the longest, stretching almost the width of her palm, just stopping short, so she can cover it with her hand. It looks the same size on him, and her hand twitches reflexively. A small pinprick is empty at the center, and a barbed circle wraps around the heart of the star, the star’s points extending past it. She's always assumed it was a part of her, like the markings on any number of beings in Jakku. Seeing it reflected on him - she doesn’t know what to make of it.

She stares a moment too long, and he shifts, the beginnings of a frown creasing his brow. She yanks her eyes away, though meeting his dark gaze is hardly any better. “You had a father who loved you, who gave a damn about you,” she spits, distracting herself. It’s easier to take refuge in her righteous anger than think too deeply on what that symbol could mean. Her anger over Han, over her friends, over everything else she can lay at Kylo’s feet is far from burnt out.


	2. Rose

Rose is nearly ready to fall over by the time she slips into the engine room to find a place to rest. Even with how little of the Resistance is left, it’s still more than was meant to be living on the Falcon. Most of the crew has set up in the various cargo holds, with the beds saved for whoever needed them most, which had included Rose until recently. The general had tried to insist that Rose stay in the crew quarters with her, at least for a little longer - and that had been another adjustment, having regular conversations and sharing a room with _Leia Organa_ herself - but it feels more like imposing than Rose is comfortable with.

She’s still finding her way around the small ship, catching up with the changes she’s missed out on, so she’s not sure who’s more surprised when she rounds the corner of a stack of crates to find Rey, the last Jedi, sitting against the wall, looking down at her chest where she’s pushed the sleeve of her shirt off her shoulder. Rey looks up and freezes, and Rose does the same.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t know - “ she babbles.

“No, it’s okay,” Rey says, looking startled.

Rose turns to leave, mentally calling herself several kinds of idiot, but something registers before she does, and she turns back. “Is that a soul mark?” she blurts.

“I - what?” Rey looks down at the mark visible above her shirt. “A what?”

“A soul mark.” Rose tentatively approaches. Now that she’s looked longer than a moment, she’s sure that’s what it is. “You know, supposed to match up with your soulmate?” Rey just looks at her blankly. Rose bites her lip. She’s not the best person to explain this but - “Can I sit?” she says finally, gesturing at the floor in front of Rey.

“Yes, please,” Rey says, watching her.

Awkwardly, Rose sits so her back is against the crates, facing Rey. She hesitates. She's seen Rey around, and even as out of it as she's been, she couldn't not know about her, the possible savior of the Resistance. Just that knowledge would usually be enough to turn her into a stuttering mess, but being stuck in intimately close quarters with her childhood idol has forced her to grow a little more used to this kind of thing. She still stammers a bit when she says, “So you’ve never heard of soul marks?” Rey shakes her head.

“No. What are they? Does everyone have them?”

“Well, they’re - I mean, they’re basically what they sound like. Some people are born with - marks, and somewhere, someone else in the universe is born with the same one, and it’s the universe’s way of telling you you’re meant to be together. Or something. It doesn’t exactly come with instructions.” Rey simply looks at her, frowning, and Rose isn’t sure what’s she’s thinking. “I have one. Too,” she stutters, and Rey’s eyes widen. “Here.”

Rose pulls off her jacket, leaving her in a sleeveless, grease-stained white shirt. “My mother always said it was bad luck to show your mark to people,” she says, smiling and wistful. Rey begins to protest, likely not wanting to offend her, but she shakes her head. “It's okay,” she assures her. “There's no way the last Jedi could be bad luck.” Rey shifts awkwardly on the bed, and Rose bites her lip. She's never had a knack for saying the right thing. Not like -

“Here,” she blurts, cutting off that line of thought and turning so that her right shoulder faces Rey. She can't see at this angle, but knows very well what Rey's looking at. She's examined it in a mirror often enough, or whatever scrap of shiny metal was available, first with excitement as a child, then growing more jaded as she got older, skeptical of a universe that allowed everything she'd seen happen to her family, that destined people for each other but might never let them meet.

Rey looks intently at the mark, first the wide vee at the bottom, curved up at the edges, with two short, thick lines extending from the middle, space between them, then the curved diamond hanging at the top, as if the vee would close and pinch it between its points. Rose wonders what she sees in it. She's never shown it to anyone besides her family before, and for a symbol that’s likely meaningless, sharing it feels uncomfortably like she’s revealing something personal. She wants to squirm under Rey's examination, but forces herself to stay still, not wanting to make the other girl uncomfortable.

“Not everybody has them,” Rose says, mostly to break the silence filled only with the sounds of the engines. “It’s kind of rare, actually. Or maybe that was just back home. I didn’t know anyone else with one in the colony, but maybe on Coruscant or wherever they’re more common. It’s all mostly stories.”

Rey pulls back and meets her eyes. “What kind of stories?” There’s an undercurrent of desperation to her words, and Rose wishes she knew more than she does.

“Just - that when you meet the person that you were meant for, whose mark matches yours - it’ll all make sense. You’ll understand. And marked couples are meant that way because of - fate, or destiny, or something; they’re the kind of people that’ll change the galaxy.” Rose pauses, but Rey doesn’t say anything. She’s staring in Rose’s direction, but Rose doesn’t think she’s seeing her. She continues, trying to remember more. “There were always rumors that this couple or another were soulmates, like some of the rulers from the old days. Only a few shared if they were though. It makes you vulnerable too, you know. They had to be powerful enough to know they could protect each other.”

Rose laughs weakly, tears forming as she gestures to her arm. “Paige always said I’d find whoever it was who has this, and there’d be nothing that could get between us. She believed it too.” Rose falls silent, except for a few sniffles. Rey’s still staring blindly, and Rose slowly feels the awkwardness of the situation rise. “I’ll just - “ she mumbles, standing and shrugging her jacket back over her shoulders.

This finally jolts Rey out of her daze. “Wait,” she says quickly, and Rose stops. Rey doesn’t seem to know what to say. She finally settles on “Does it - do anything?”

“The mark?” Rey nods. “I mean, not that I know of, really. It’s just - there. A lot of people don’t even meet their soulmate, and you don’t have to be with them if you do. Most people who find each other end up together though, at least that I heard of, because - “ she motions to her arm. “I guess people figure it has to mean something. Or they want it to.”

Rey nods. “Thanks,” she says quietly.

Rose nods in return, and then, because she’s probably already made this as awkward as it can be, and she really is curious: “Can I - see yours? It’s okay if not, I just - “ she trails off, then stands again. “Sorry, I’ll just - “

Rey hesitates, then calls her back. “No, it’s okay.” She stands as well, then pushes her sleeve back down over her shoulder, fully revealing the mark.

“It’s pretty,” Rose tells her, and means it. Large too, wider than Rose’s hand.

“It’s changed,” Rey says, and Rose pulls back, surprised. Rey traces the curling lines that extend from the points of the dark star. “These are new. It’s like it’s growing or something. It’s always been the same; I don’t know…”

Rose racks her brain for more of her mother’s stories, trying to think of something that could help. “Some people said that they - react or something when your soulmate. Like it’d change color, or you’d feel it burn, or it’d even start to glow.” Rose nearly snorts. “It sounded ridiculous, so I never really believed it, but - “ She looks again at the intricate mark just above the Jedi’s heart. “I guess that must be it.” Realizing what she’s saying, she looks up at Rey in shock. “Did you? Meet them?”

Rey looks to the side and pulls her sleeve back up. Rose steps back, realizing she’s hit on something uncomfortable. “Was it - someone with the First Order?” She thinks of Finn. “Maybe one of the stormtroopers?”

Rey still doesn’t meet her eyes. “Maybe,” she mumbles.

Rose winces. No wonder she’d been so concerned over the mark. She nearly leaves again, but stops and gives Rey’s shoulder a quick, awkward squeeze before she does. Rey looks back at her, surprised. “I’m sorry,” Rose says, offering her a sad smile. “Maybe - it could still work out?”

Rey looks away again. “Maybe. ”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Ben - Kylo - Ben's parents were storytellers. Stories of the Rebellion, of their exploits before then, legends from their home worlds - they had no end of tales to tell. And it wasn't just them: Uncle Luke, Uncle Lando, Aunt Amilyn, even Uncle Chewie once Ben learned to understand Shyriiwook, which wasn't long after he learned Basic. As a child, Ben loved all of them, listening just as seriously to his father and Uncle Chewie interrupting each other to retell another of their narrow escapes from the law, while his mother looked on with fond disapproval, as to Uncle Luke's piecemeal histories of the Jedi, or Aunt Amilyn’s explanations behind every star in the sky. They all had plenty of things in common, adventure and danger and how much each of their tellers believed in them. Ben always loved the ones about soulmates the most, from the moment he started to understand what the mark on his shoulder could mean.

There were plenty of those stories, both real or mostly real and legends. His parents were soulmates, something Ben cherished. Soulmates had been common on Alderaan, his mother told him, even if not everyone met their match. The royal line had been marked couples going as far back as anyone could remember. Leia told him these stories wistfully, along with the fairy tales her parents had told her, and Ben listened solemnly.

Aunt Amilyn had a mark too and believed with complete peace that the universe would lead her to her partner one day. Ben tried to emulate her peace, but most of what he felt towards his soulmate was an excited impatience. They could be anyone, somewhere out there in the universe, and they were meant for each other, would match each other perfectly. (Matches didn't always work quite like they should, but he was sure his would.)

Uncle Luke tried to gently encourage him not to rely on finding his soulmate, to find his own peace. He didn't have a mark, and Ben knew he didn't understand.

And then Ben died, and Kylo Ren was born. Snoke allowed even less for attachments than his old master. People as powerful as them didn't have soulmates, didn't need such weakness. His weakness was what kept him from removing the mark altogether, like Hux insisted was done to the stormtroopers. He couldn't allow himself to dwell on it, or he knew his master would insist on that final step, to prove his devotion. If he were alive to witness what had happened now...Kylo shudders to think of his punishment.

Kylo stands in front of the mirror in his bathroom, allowing himself to fully contemplate the mark on his chest for the first time in years. It’s grown past the point where the changes can be ignored. In the wake of Starkiller, when his injuries had been assessed, he'd had the fleeting thought that the star was taller than he remembered, but clamped down on the idea before it could be realized. Since his rebellion and subsequent abandonment, he'd been aware that it was growing, confirming what he'd hardly dared to think.

Now, considering what this means can't be put off. Tentatively, he raises a hand and traces the wild curls extending from the mark he's so familiar with. They're no different from the main piece of his mark, just as much a part of his skin, maybe slightly lighter towards the ends, where it continues to grow. He can't see it moving, but knows when he wakes up the next morning, there will be more of it. His fingers trail to the bottom of his neck, where the mark now reaches. It's also extended to the center of his chest, around his ribs, and up to his shoulder, where it's begun to curl down his arm. He wonders when it will stop. None of the stories he'd been told had fully prepared him for this. His mother's stories had mentioned marks recognizing when the bearer met their match, but nothing to this extent. His chest aches and he swallows, shoving his thoughts in a different direction, towards anything else.

His fingers dig into his skin at his neck. The high neck of his armor covers the mark for now, but won't for much longer if it continues at this rate. His underlings are already snapping at his heels; they don't need any sign of vulnerability to encourage them. He's regretted the destruction of his mask many times since assuming his new role, and that regret returns again in full force. He'd never been adept at concealing his emotions. A vague memory of his mother cupping his cheek, wiping away tears floats across his mind and he snarls, turning away from the mirror. These thoughts have been invading more and more frequently as of late, and he doesn't know whether it's due to the loss of Snoke's influence, the near loss of his mother, or the weakness caused by the scavenger, but it can't be allowed to continue. He's made his choice and burned his bridges. The only way is through.

He leaves the bathroom for his bedroom, ready to lie down for another cycle of restless sleep. As he does, the hum of the ship in the background fades as a sort of numbness fills his ears. His heart starts to pound as he recognizes what this is.

The bond has only connected them once since Snoke's death, that he knows of. It had been in the midst of yet another endless meeting, and Rey had appeared across the conference table. She'd been working on something, and he hadn't been able to call out to her, only watch until the connection faded. He'd clung to that moment more than he'd admit, proof that the bond hadn't died with his master.

This time, Rey appears in front of him undistracted by anything else. She's looking ahead at something he can't see, but she blinks, then looks to the side and meets his eyes. Her gaze flicks down to his bare chest and back up, her eyes widening even as she flushes.

“I'll be right back,” she mutters to someone on her end, then turns and walks away from whatever she was doing. The bond keeps them connected, and his hands clench as he tries not to think of who she could have been talking to. When she finally stops and turns to face him, her arms are crossed over her chest.

“Don't you own a shirt?” she snaps.

He blinks. This wasn't how he expected their first confrontation since she left him on Crait to go. He doesn't answer, distracted instead by desperately searching her skin for a hint of the mark that spreads across his own. His heart stops when he doesn't spot it immediately. Her shirt under her wraps doesn't quite come up to her neck, and there's no black there; could it be anyone but her? He'd known, he'd been certain -

Then he spots a curve of dark ink peeking out along her chest and breathes again. He wants to lean in, examine it closer, but stops himself after a short step. He drags his eyes back to hers, but she's not looking at his face either. Her gaze is firmly fixed to the mark sprawled across his chest, tracing its curls with an expression he can't decipher.

“I told you,” he says with a kind of dark satisfaction, and her eyes snap upwards. “It _is_ you.”

“This doesn't mean anything,” she snaps, and he scowls.

“It does; you know it does,” he insists.

“No!” She glares at him.

“You can't pretend you don't feel this,” he says, a little desperately, gesturing between them.

Her expression doesn't soften. “It doesn't matter if I do, or did. You made your choice.” Her words hit their mark, and he feels them with a pang. He looks away.

“I know.” He can't hide the - not regret, not quite, but too close - from the words.

Her arms fall from her chest to her sides. “I can't do this,” she says, the words choked as she turns away.

“Rey,” he says desperately, grabbing for her hand. He doesn't know what would have followed her name, but the shock of contact between them freezes them both. She looks down to where his hand holds hers, expression torn.

“Kylo,” she starts, and that name from her sends another pang through him. He drops her hand and steps back.

They stand, neither looking at the other, until Rey breaks the silence. “I found at what this is.” She says it almost to herself, gesturing to her chest. It gives him a jolt of surprise; his mark has been so much a part of him, he can't imagine not knowing what it meant. But of course she didn't, he's seen her childhood, where she came from.

She doesn't elaborate, and he casts about for some way to keep this connection going. “I used to dream about finding my soulmate.” The words hang in the air. He doesn't need to say that he hadn't expected it like this.

Silence again. He feels the time passing and realizes that the connection could end at any moment. “Can I see it?” He hears the desperation in his own voice and winces. He needs to see it though, to remove any doubt. “Please,” he begs.

She startles at the request and hesitates before finally nodding. She turns to fully face him and pulls the collar of her shirt down as far as it'll easily go, dragging the rest of her layers with it.

He can't see the very bottom of the star this way, but it's plenty to confirm the match. It's more than he could have imagined to see his mark replicated on another's skin, on _her_. It disappears over her shoulder and under her shirt to the sides, and his fingers itch to trace it, to explore its edges.

She's looking at his again too, and takes an unconscious step forward. “Is it always like this?” she asks, eyes flicking briefly back up to his.

“I don't think so,” he says hoarsely.

Carefully, he takes a small step into her, and she doesn't back away. Instead, she meets him. Her hand raises almost unconsciously to hover over his skin, then she notices and withdraws it. He catches it before she can, that shock of connection passing between them again. She looks back up at him, and her breath comes faster. Slowly, he brings her hand to his chest, placing it at the center of his mark. Her eyes drop to fix on that point.

Still moving as if sudden action will break the link between them, he lets go of her hand, letting his fall to his side. Her hand remains on his chest, first pressed flat to the mark, as if she could blot it out with her palm. He doesn't want to breathe and disturb her, but he's nearly panting under her touch. His chest moves in short, quick heaves as her fingers start at the top of the star and trace the ever-growing curves outward. They end up at the base of his neck, pressing lightly, and she must be able to feel the pounding of his heart.

She stops, head bowed, and he looks down at her in amazement and confusion and concern. “What?” he asks quietly.

“Why you?”

His chest aches. “I don't know.” He doesn't deserve her, she doesn't deserve this, and surely the universe or the Force or whatever decides this is taking some kind of sadistic pleasure in tying them together. And yet, at the same time, he can't imagine anything else. The idea of not having this connection hurts in a way that makes him gasp for breath. He closes his eyes and leans his head down until it rests gently on hers. She doesn't pull away, hand still curled on his chest, and he drowns himself in the contact. He can almost smell her, sweat and engine grease and something old and uncomfortably familiar.

Time fades between them. He can't tell how long passes before the connection ends. She disappears in the space of a moment. He stumbles forward, leaning into nothing. His eyes shoot open, showing him only his austere and empty room. Chest aching, he curls up in his cold bed and falls fitfully asleep.


	3. Finn

Finn doesn't know much about the Jedi. Those kinds of stories were forbidden in the First Order, though there were always rumours, legends from the last war. Still, until he saw Luke Skywalker walk out to take on the First Order on his own, the only Force user he'd seen had been Kylo Ren. And now Rey has it, lifting rocks and studying old texts she got from Skywalker, and it feels a little surreal.

It's a weird kind of deja vu, being stuck on the Falcon with Rey on the run again. It's different with the entire Resistance along, of course, and the general isn't much like her husband, besides their hardheadedness. Rey's distracted this time, which he doesn't notice at first, since he is too. Not just with Rose, though that's a big part of it, but with so little of the Resistance left, there's a lot to be done, organization to figure out, next steps to take. The general spends as much time talking to everyone as she can manage, and Finn finds himself a part of many of those conversations. Rey is there too, usually in the background, though she also spends a lot of time holed up in the engine room with her books. Rose finds her there not long after she's walking around again, and she tells him about it as they sit together in his corner of the cargo hold later.

Bunking with most of the Resistance in the Falcon’s hold is comfortingly familiar to him, though he can tell Rose prefers having space to herself. They rig a wide hammock above his spot that gives her some privacy, even though he worries a little about her getting in and out of it, but she knows she can come down to his cot whenever she wants.

They sit there next to each other, facing away from the rest of the room. “Did you know Rey has a soul mark?” Rose asks.

He frowns. “Soul mark?” Rose explains to him, and his eyes widen. He's still reeling when she slips an arm out of her jacket to show him hers, turned so that the rest of the room can't see. “So Rey's met… whoever this is? Her soulmate?”

Rose nods. “She must have. Maybe while she was on the Supremacy? It could have been anyone there, a stormtrooper, or…” She trails off.

Finn shakes his head slowly with a sense of foreboding. “Couldn't be a trooper. Distinguishing marks like that wouldn't be allowed.”

“What do you mean?”

Finn pulls up the sleeve of his shirt to reveal a square patch of unnaturally smooth skin, slightly puckered, high on his arm.

Rose inhales sharply. “I'm sorry.”

Finn lets his sleeve fall back. “So am I,” he says quietly.

He remembers this conversation days later when, in the midst of another strategy meeting, Rey excuses herself and leaves abruptly. He's distracted for the rest of the meeting, though he knows how important finding allies is with their limited resources. He thinks instead of the glimpse he caught a dark lines at the edge of her shirt as she turned to leave. He’d noticed it earlier, and Rey had seen him looking at it. She'd tugged at her wraps to cover it better, and he'd looked away quickly. The knowledge of it makes him uneasy, in a way he can't fully explain. Rey's his friend, and this worries him.

After the meeting, he goes to check on Rey in the nest she's made in the engine room. He hears her voice as he approaches, in a tone that sounds like she's talking to someone, though he can't make out the words, and he stops short. She doesn't say anything else, and he cautiously ducks his head into the doorway.

“Rey?” he calls quietly. He can just see her around the crates. When she doesn't answer, he walks in.

He finds her standing, arms raised as if wrapped around someone. For a moment, he thinks he can see them, a dark figure that's terrifyingly familiar. But it's gone before it can fully register, and Rey stumbles forward, like a support has been taken away from her. He stands, wide-eyed, not sure how to react. Rey's arms drop to her sides, and she takes a deep, shaky breath.

Eventually, she stands straight again and looks up. She does a double take at his presence. He shifts on his feet, feeling like he's intruding.

“Finn!” she says. “I didn't hear you come in.”

“I called you, but I guess you were… distracted,” he explains, not quite meeting her eyes. He doesn't like this awkwardness, feeling unsure around his first friend in this new life.

“Sorry,” she says, and a dark flush spreads up from her chest. His eyes flick inevitably down to where her mark emerges from her wraps - it's mostly revealed now and he can see more of it than he ever has - then flick just as quickly away. Even as he examines the walls of the engine room, he can see her out of the corner of his eye, tugging up her sleeve, though it only reveals where the mark peaks out over her shoulder. She presses her hand briefly to that spot, high on her chest, like putting pressure on a wound, then lets it fall again.

“Everything alright?” she asks.

He raises an eyebrow. “I was going to ask you that. Are you okay? You rushed out of the meeting; I was worried.”

She shakes her head. “I'm fine,” she tries to assure him, though it barely makes him feel better. “I just needed a moment. You know how it is.”

He nods, even though he doesn't quite, not in the same way she does. Her childhood had been much less dense than his; he can only imagine how this change is for her. The Falcon is almost spacious compared to his early barracks. He pauses. “If there's anything you want to talk about, you know I'm here for you, right?”

She jerks her head up, eyes wide. “I - thanks, Finn.” She swallows. “That means a lot.”

He nods again, and when she doesn't say anything else, turns to go. “Actually - “ Rey stops him. He turns back quickly.

“Yeah?”

She struggles with her words for a moment. “Did you have... friends in the First Order?” She looks at him intently.

He takes a step over to the wall and leans against it heavily. “Yeah,” he sighs. “A couple.” Rey watches him, hands fidgeting with her wraps.

“How do you - deal with that? With fighting them?”

He doesn't look at her, or ask why she wants to know. The secret Rose confided in him weighs at the front of his mind. “It's not easy,” he finally says. “One of them recognized me on Takodana, confronted me. Called me a traitor.” His lips twitched in a humorless smile. “Which isn't wrong, I guess. We were part of the same squad, close as I was to anyone there, except maybe Slip. He nearly killed me, and I know I must have killed other troopers then, not to mention since.” He sighs, slumping further. “It's...easier, not to think about it, in the middle of a fight. That's how I was trained, even if it didn't really take. But then I think that I've probably killed troopers I used to know, who were just as stuck as I was and… it's not so easy.”

He swallows, throat feeling dry. “The only thing that helps is knowing I made the right choice. That if I don't do what I need to, if I don't fight them, the First Order will keep spreading, keep killing people. And I've decided I'm not going to let that happen.” He finally looks up and meets Rey's eyes. “So I've made my choice. And I hope, Maker, more than anything, that maybe some of them will make the same one. Maybe someday the Resistance can help them leave, or maybe I can. But in the moment, I have to do what needs to be done to keep us alive.” He looks away again, tears burning at his eyes.

Tentatively, Rey's arm comes around his shoulder, and she squeezes him comfortingly. He returns the hug, arms wrapping around her gratefully. Without realizing it, his breathing had started to come shallower, and he focuses on slowing it back down as they hug each other. When he's calm again, he pulls back and does his best to smile at her. “Thanks,” he says quietly. She shakes her head.

“Thank you,” she says earnestly, just as softly. They stand together listening to the hum of the engines, until a noise from outside the room breaks them out of their thoughts. Finn stands.

“Come on, let's get something to eat,” he says, swinging an arm around Rey's shoulders. She grabs his hand.

“Sounds good. We should get Rose to come too.” Rey smiles at him knowingly, and he feels himself blushing.

“Of course,” he agrees, and they leave the engine room together.

 

* * *

 

 

The sun beats down on Rey, heating her in the leather jacket she's taken to wearing. Finn gave it to her, having noticed that she'd been struggling to keep her soul mark hidden under her clothes. She'd tried wrapping her arms higher, keeping her shirt pulled up and her sash pulled down over her shoulders, but it’s impossible to keep everything in place, especially when moving, and as the Resistance started landing on new planets and seeking help, it made her more and more nervous that someone would recognize what the mark was and start asking questions. It feels too private to want to show to people or talk to strangers about, even if they can't possibly know the full story of what it means. She can't completely hide the lines that have made their way to the base of her neck, but the collar of the jacket helps keep them shadowed and unobtrusive.

She huffs and rolls from her stomach to sitting back up, legs folded underneath her. She glances around the garden where she's dragged her books out to. She’d been stuck with the sacred Jedi texts in the Falcon for too long, and couldn't pass up the opportunity to take her studies outside, especially to the gorgeous gardens that Naboo offers. She'd love to explore more, investigate all the strange new plants surrounding her, but has restrained herself to seeking out an isolated spot for herself. Leia excused her from visiting various dignitaries so she could learn the secrets of the Jedi, not smell the roses. Rey knows she needs to develop her connection with the Force to be able to help the Resistance in their fight. After all, she knows exactly what they're up against.

Heart clenching, she pushes the thought aside. Looking around once more to check that she's alone, she tugs the jacket off and sets it on the ground beside her. She sighs in relief as the warm breeze passes over her skin. She lays back down, pulling the book she's been working on to her.

She reads without interruption, sometimes having to re-read a page several times before she can make sense of it, or read a sentence out loud to figure it out. Only a few of the books have sections written in basic, translations added later, so she's started there, but even that is slow going. The language is convoluted, and as she progresses, more and more contradictory.

After she reads one sentence a dozen times and can't figure out how it does anything other than nullify itself, she growls and drops her head to the ground. She’s used to forcing her way through anything, but this is ridiculous. She wonders if Luke is laughing at her in the Force from wherever he's fucked off to.

Almost as soon as she's finished the thought, the trilling birdsong around her becomes strangely muted. She looks up from where her face is buried in the grass to see Kylo Ren sitting in front of her.

His legs are crossed, hands resting on his knees, and his eyes are closed. In a plain black long sleeved tunic, dark pants, and socks, he looks more Ben Solo than she's ever seen him. He'd be peaceful if it weren't for the slight frown creasing his forehead. As she examines him, one eye cracks open. His frown deepens as he looks at her.

“Are you alright?” he asks, eyes fully opening.

She drags herself off the ground and sits up. “Yes, fine,” she says irritably.

An eyebrow raises. “Really?”

“Yes!” she insists. Then, before she can help it, “It's just these books! They can't possibly be serious.”

He looks down at the book currently in her hands. “How did you get a hold of the Jedi texts?” he asks incredulously. “I would have thought Luke would have passed with them clutched in his hands.”

She flushes. “He wasn't using them,” she says defensively. “I took them before I...left.” Silence hangs between them with the weight of everything that happened next.

Ben breaks it first. “Which part are you on?” He leans forward curiously, and Rey turns the book towards him. He snorts. “That's complete nonsense.”

“I know!”

He sits back. “The Jedi did what they wanted and wrote down this rubbish to justify themselves after the fact.” Rey wants to contradict him, but nothing she's read so far or learned from Luke can help her do that. He takes her silence as agreement. “My offer remains open…”

She rolls her eyes. “Like your method is any different.”

He glares, but can't defend himself either. Instead, he looks around her, then at her. His gaze lingers on her exposed shoulders, now fully decorated in dark lines. “Where are you?”

She crosses her arms. “Really?”

He shrugs. “You're talking to me, so you must be alone.” He glances around again. “How many of Luke's texts did you manage to take?”

“They're not Luke's; they're the Jedi’s,” she says hotly. “And all of them that I knew of.”

Ben's lips quirk. “Scavenger.” She scowls, but he says the word almost affectionately. “What about any of the others?”

Her scowl deepens. “I can't read them,” she mutters.

He blinks, then hesitates. “May I see?”

Grumpily, she digs the one that had looked the most complicated out of her bag, written in a language completely unlike anything she'd seen on Jakku. She hands it to him, reasoning that he likely can't do anything to hurt it over the bond.

He turns out over in his hands. “Amazing,” he breathes. He looks up at her and grins. “I didn't think you'd be able to hand it to me; I figured you'd have to be holding it for me to see it.” He runs a finger along the ancient, cracked spine. “But this is incredible.”

His smile and the way it relaxes his face in unfamiliar ways knocks anything she might have said from her mind. Her mouth hangs open slightly, but she snaps it closed when he looks back down to the book, dark locks hanging in front of his face. She swallows and leans in to better see as his fingers trace the pages of text.

“Most people wouldn't be able to read this,” he assures her, eyes still fixed on the book. “The language is long dead, and even if you could figure out where it came from, the culture the writer came from believed that to read sacred texts, one should first find peace within themself. Though anyone who succeeded would surely lose it as soon as they figured out that no two pages were written in the same way.” He glances up at her with a crooked grin. “It was considered part of their art.”

She swallows and looks quickly back down. “So you can't read it either?”

He shakes his head. “There are some words I'm not sure of, but I can make out most of it.” He looks up at her through his dark curls. “If you want, I could read it to you.”

She bites her lip and considers his offer. If the writing is obscure as he says it is, and he'd seemed completely earnest in his assessment, this is her best and perhaps only chance to try to decipher this particular book. He could always lie to her about what he's reading, but for all his many, many faults, he's always been honest, in an almost desperate way. Even when what he says isn't true, it's because he believes it is. She sits back in the grass. “Go ahead.”

His finger starts at the center of the page, finding a point in the graceful jumble of connected symbols. She's tense at first, still unsure in this connection between them but desperate for the knowledge he can give her. As his voice flows over her and the sun beats down, she slowly relaxes. It's nothing like picking through the emotionless translations on her own. The text is as confusing as ever, but it's less frustrating with Kylo's dry commentary between the lessons. He points out the ridiculousness of certain sections, and though she knows he's biased, it makes her feel better about her failure as Luke's student and inability to resolve the contradictions in the sacred Jedi texts on her own. He stumbles at points too, eyebrows pinching in chagrin, but nothing like the rage she's seen from him. He even apologizes when one sentence completely escapes him, though it comes out as a growl while he glares at the page.

She's in the middle of laughing at his dramatization of a particular section, where the author has taken an unexpectedly personal detour, when his voice cuts off abruptly. He's vanished, leaving only the book on the ground, open to where he stopped. She leans forward and collects it. Her fingers trace the foreign words, and she tries to ignore the unexpected pang of loss.

The air feels suddenly chiller, and she pulls the jacket back on, tugging the collar high against her neck.


	4. Poe

Poe watches Rey dig into the guts of an antique x-wing from across the rundown bunker. He hasn't seen much of the last Jedi in recent weeks; she's as busy preparing for her part in this war as he's been with his. But even Jedi can't spend all their time with their noses stuck in books, so Leia’s insisted the girl come along to investigate this abandoned Rebel base with his team. Besides, having a Jedi along helps avoid nasty surprises better than any radar.

She's happier than he last saw her, not much of a surprise. Being cooped up on the Falcon hadn't done much for any of them. He'd gotten off planet as soon as Leia had found them some more ships and judged it safe enough to hit up old stores from the Rebellion, with promises to keep these ships intact. Leia knew better than to drag him into diplomatic meetings anyway.

They hadn't had much luck so far, everything too old and rotted for them to make use of, even with their standards dropped to rock bottom. This base, however, might be a start. He crosses over to Rey and raps his knuckles on the outside of the ship.

“How's it looking?” he calls up to her.

She grunts and pushes something to the side, then emerges from the cockpit. “Not bad.” She pushes her hair back from her face with a grease-smeared hand. “Plenty of broken parts, mostly from age, but only a few critical, and nothing that should be too hard to find, especially if we use a couple of these to put the rest together.” She gestures at the half dozen or so ships scattered around.

Poe nods. “Make a list of what you need, and we'll compare across this lot.” She nods and ducks back into the ship.

As she bends over the control panel, the jacket she's wearing pulls down, showing her neck and the dark lines that curl up from the base to her hairline. He blinks. He hadn't realized it was still spreading.

He'd seen the marks on her shoulders before Finn had passed on his jacket to her. He didn't mind; it was clear she was uncomfortable showing them off. It had taken him longer than it should have for him to realize what the mark was, but it'd been years since he'd seen one.

He'd learned that soul marks were meant to be shown off as a kid, especially one as extensive as hers, but war has a way of changing things. He wonders who her partner is, or if she even knows. It's not anyone in the Resistance, obviously, and she hasn't had the chance to make a whole lot of other new acquaintances before the mark started showing. Most likely someone in the First Order then. He frowns. Poor girl.

He taps the ship again. “Good work, Rey,” he tells her as he heads back to the control room, and hears a muffled and confused thanks behind him. Idly, he considers what Rey is likely to do if confronted by her soul mate. It's supposedly a bond that's difficult to resist, and even hesitation could cost them in battle. It's something to keep in mind, at least.

Poe looks around the rest of the hangar. Two more of his team are cataloging any blasters and ammunition they can find, while another's tasked with various other supplies, particularly anything medical. He nods to himself. They'll make do with what they can find. They always do.

 

* * *

 

 

Kylo has plenty of reasons for being a light sleeper. He assumes Rey must too, but either she's exhausted or feels safer enough to truly sleep, wherever she is, because when the Force drops then into each other's beds in the middle of the night, she doesn't wake.

Kylo immediately startles at the sudden presence of a warm body next to him in his narrow bed. He nearly lashes out, calling his saber to him, but stops himself before he ignites it. He quickly drops the saber to the side once he recognizes who's appeared. She draws a quick breath, and he thinks she's about to wake. He tenses, but she only shifts, curling up next to him. Her breathing stays calm as he watches. Tentatively, he pulls his sheets up to cover her, not sure if it does anything for her. His bed is barely wide enough for them to fit next to each other, and he can't roll far enough away to keep from touching her. Her hands fisted against his chest and calves against his legs burn like a brand. He curves himself around her, trying to give her as much space as he can.

Her chest rises and falls in a steady, even pattern next to him. He knows he shouldn't be watching her without her knowledge, but he can't bring himself to leave his bed for his cold room and...what? Hide in his bathroom until the Force decides to release them? He closes his eyes instead.

Even without seeing her, he feels her presence bedside him. She glows in the Force, and he lets it wash over him, accompanied by a pang of guilt.

Unable to resist, he cracks any eye open. His gaze is drawn to her shoulders, revealed by her loose tank. Even in the darkness of his room, he can see the elaborate swirls that mark them for each other. He wishes he could see the heart of the mark, but takes comfort instead in the extent of the design, likely a result of the Force twining them together. He's tried subtly researching both Force bonds and soul marks, though he doesn't trust the First Order’s resources, but they're both better found in legend than anything he has access to from his ship. He can't imagine anything quite like this though: across the reaches of the universe, this belongs to them.

The lines trail down her arm, just as they do his. He wonders what this is supposed to mean for them. If it could mean something in the future. If Rey thinks of it as anything more than something to hide. He breathes deeply, smelling dust and sweat and grease.

“I'm sorry,” he whispers into her hair. He couldn't say aloud exactly what he's sorry for. He regrets more things than he can remember. He doesn't know that he could do it differently, but that doesn't stop him from aching for a different world, one where he could wake up to her sleeping next to him and pull her closer, fall easily back to sleep. For now, in this world, he keeps himself at a distance, while clinging to whatever he can get.

He thinks he sees her eyelids flutter, but closes his firmly. She shifts, then settles again. He doesn't know whether he falls asleep or the bond ends first, but when he wakes, he's alone again.


	5. Hux

Hux knows how to wait. He's patient enough to plan and eager to strike when the time is right. He prides himself on this. And the Supreme Leader’s time is coming quickly.

What had happened in Snoke's throne room had been clear from the moment he walked in. The girl and Ren had attempted to usurp Snoke, and she'd fled, leaving him for dead once the deed was done. It was just as clear to him what had to happen next. Ren was never stable enough to lead, and for him to presume that he could come in and control the carefully crafted Order that Hux had built - ridiculous. It’s only a matter of time before he falls, and Hux, well, he's only be too happy to help that along.

It's not even difficult really, not after everything else he's done to secure his place already. Ren develops more weaknesses by the day, first in the strange markings that he tries to hide with ever higher collars. Hux doesn't understand their significance until the trace he'd placed on Ren’s personal access port pays off. Research on Force bonds and soul mates. Ren may be a master in mysticism and the Force, but Hux has mastered the practicalities of maintaining power. Hux knew the girl would be a weakness, but he'd thought it would be Ren’s desire for revenge, not this. It's another nail in his coffin. No leader who can't be trusted to remove the Order’s biggest threat can possibly be allowed to stay in power.

Between his _personal_ issues and struggling to learn the details of managing the First Order, the Supreme Leader is distracted, to say the least. He's barely paying attention to Hux’s briefing, which suits Hux’s plans just as well. He lays out their attack on a remote mining world that has recently decided to rebel against the Order. It's a simple enough mission to take care of, one hardly worth bringing to the attention of the Supreme Leader. Of course, he has his reasons.

“...And therefore ore shipments will be rerouted for the time being,” he drones on. “This is a fairly minor world, and should have little impact on operations. However, we have received intelligence indicating that the remnants of the Resistance may be behind this… sudden attack of bravery,” he sneers, carefully not looking at Ren. He doesn't disappoint, shifting from glaring off at the corner of the room to sitting up and paying attention at once. Hux keeps himself from smirking. “While they should be unable to bring any significant forces, we should prepare for their efforts. The goal is for minimal damage, we would like to keep the mines here operational, which shouldn't present difficulties, though we may need to import labor. If we can remove the remainder of the Resistance in the same stroke, all the better. If they are there, they will not escape.”

Hux turns to Ren, face blank. “Supreme Leader, I suggest you observe from above. Your presence could be helpful in impressing the sincerity of our control, and my stormtroopers will quickly take care of this.”

Ren stands, shoving his chair back from the table. “No. I will lead the attack.”

Hux forces a scowl. “If you insist, _Supreme Leader_.” He thinks of nothing except how obnoxious Ren’s presence is, and turns back to the projector. “Very well. The Supreme Leader will lead the attack. The ship is en route now, and should arrive within a standard day. Captains, have your troops ready to deploy then.”

The meeting ends and the various officers disperse to their stations. Ren sweeps from the room, quite possibly to warn his little girlfriend. Once the room is empty, Hux allows himself a brief smile.

 

* * *

 

 

Rey feels it in the middle of a small party thrown by the Resistance’s newest supporter. She's nodding politely while listening to an older senator recount his memories of the Jedi, which are all sanitized versions of the legends she'd discovered on Jakku, when the entire front of her body is hit with a wave of force, like she's fallen from a height onto her face. The sensation fades to a searing ache, with sharp points of pain in her right side and shoulder, left temple, and scattered along her legs.

“Kriff,” she gasps, hunching over. Then, when the senator looks at her in shock. “Er, excuse me.” She hobbles to the nearest wall and braces herself against it. Her back hurts too, and she tries to catch her breath. She can't sense anything wrong with her, besides the pain, and no one else in the room seems to be affected. This has to be coming from somewhere else then. Bracing herself, she pushes against the vague sense of Ben Solo that never quite leaves her mind, tries to echo the feeling of the bond opening between them.

It's not the same; she can't see him, but she can feel him. She gasps again, the pain so much worse with the connection opened. Worst is the one in her side, which makes it hard to breathe. He's lying on the ground, gasping and bleeding.

 _“What happened?”_ she demands through the bond, not sure if he'll even be able to hear her.

He moves his head weakly, as if looking for her, before realizing what she's done. _“Rey,”_ he breathes in surprise, then repeats it again, regretfully. “Rey.”

“Where are you?” Her vision is going blurry, not just from the pain.

He shakes his head slowly, letting it flop back and forth on the ground.

“You kriffing idiot,” she snarls in a whisper, fist clenching. The corner of his mouth twitches. _“Where?”_ His eyes slip closed. The connection slips away. She nearly punches the wall.

Though she can't feel him as clearly as before, the sense of him is still present in her mind, clear but fading. She clings to it, pulling like a rope. She knows with certainty that he's not too far away, somewhere nearby on the outer rim. She stands straight, gritting her teeth. “I'm coming for you, Ben Solo,” she mutters, then rolls her eyes. “Again.”


	6. Leia

When Rey interrupts Leia’s conversation with their newest donor, face drawn with pain, Leia knows immediately that something is very wrong.

“General, I need to talk to you,” she says. Leia nods and turns to the donor.

“Please, excuse us for a moment.” He looks surprised, but nods graciously, imprinted with the same manners she'd learned as a girl.

Leia wraps an arm around Rey and leads her from the room. Once they’re out of earshot, she stops and turns to face her. “What’s wrong, Rey?”

Rey looks away as she struggles for words, fidgeting. Her cheeks are flushed and eyes glint with unshed tears in the low light of the hallway. Leia’s worry increases; through everything they’ve been through, she hasn’t seen Rey so affected since they first met after Starkiller.

“It’s Ben - Kylo,” she starts, and Leia stiffens.

“Rey…” she sighs.

“We have a connection,” Rey interrupts. Leia’s eyes widen and her mouth snaps shut. “Ever since Starkiller base. I can...feel him, most of the time, and sometimes we can see each other. Not anything else, just...us. It’s some kind of a bond, we don’t know exactly what it is, but we talk, sometimes.”

Pieces start to click into place for Leia, some that she thinks she should have put together before. “Your mark,” she says, eyeing where she knows the dark lines are beneath the high neck and long sleeves Rey had insisted on. She’d known what it was, and pitied her. Rey’s soulmate could have been anyone, from either side, possibly one of the hundreds that died in escaping the Raddus or on Crait. She’d never considered that it could be her son. She closes her eyes, flooded with sudden memories of Ben curled up with her, begging for another story, telling her afterwards how he was going to meet the person he was meant for someday. She looks at Rey, who’s watching her apprehensively. “It’s him, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Rey says hoarsely.

Leia takes a shaky breath. Not for the first time, she wishes Luke hadn’t been so quick to decide that his part in this was over. “Rey, my son,” she begins, then stops, shaking her head. There’s a reason Rey’s telling her this now. She can sort out her own thoughts later. “What happened?” she finally settles on.

“He’s hurt. Not just hurt, he’s dying. He’s alone somewhere, he must have been attacked, and I can’t just - “ She looks down and angrily wipes away a tear that falls down her cheek. “I need to go.”

Bracing herself, Leia breathes and reaches out in the Force. It’s too much to be aware of him at every moment, to be reminded of everything she would change and the choices he’s made, but her own connection with him has never left either. She can feel her son, and holds back the wave of emotions that brings. His presence in the Force is wavering, and the sensation is like a dagger to her. She presses a hand to her chest. No matter how much she knows she should have given up on him for the good of the Resistance and the galaxy he seems determined to destroy, she thinks this loss might be the one that could finally break her. But this isn’t about her, or her wayward son. Not only is Rey a sign of hope to so many, she’s so young, and doesn’t deserve to be tied to the doomed legacy of the Skywalkers any more than she already is.

“How do you know this isn’t a trap?” she says, gently, though the words come out choked. “Not just by him, but if anyone else in the Order found out about this, you’d be their first target.”

Rey shakes her head. “It’s not. I’m sure of it.” She stands tall. “And even if it is, I can’t leave him. Not now.”

Leia slowly nods. She tries to separate the concerns of general and mother and make the best choices for the people who trust her, but in the end, she can’t be sure that her response doesn’t have a touch of selfishness to it. “Take the Falcon. It’s practically yours anyway.” Her lips twitch upward. “And if there’s anything that might help shock Ben back to life, that could do it.” Rey nods. “I can’t send anyone with you, but-” She pulls the younger woman into a fierce hug. “May the Force be with you, Rey.” Tears prick at her eyes as Rey hugs her tightly back. She brushes them away as they part.

“I’ll bring him back,” Rey promises, and Leia thinks again on the world she had once dreamed of for her son, where she didn’t send children out on missions that would inevitably be too much for them.

 

* * *

 

 

Rey has the Falcon off the planet before she even lets herself think. Once in space, she has to stop and regroup.

One of the few things Luke managed to teach her before he left was how to reach out into the Force, and she remembers that brief lesson now. It takes a moment before she can calm herself and clear her mind enough to reach out, but it works. The thread connecting her and Ben solidifies before her, giving her a direction to follow. She breaks her trance, programs the navigation, and takes off.

Hyperspace dulls the intensity of the bond, but she can still feel it when she concentrates. With every beat between them, she swears his presence gets slightly weaker. She briefly considers digging in the engines to see if she can make them go any faster, but she knows there aren't any adjustments she can make now that will do any better than the improvements she's already made to the ship. So she sits in the cockpit and waits, staring sightlessly at the blur of stars in front of her.

The Falcon finally drops out of hyperspace and a small red planet appears, approaching quickly. Rey's hands jump to the controls. Ben's presence pulses clearly, but even weaker than she'd thought. He's on the edge of slipping away.

 _“Hold on,”_ she pushes at him. _“I'm almost there.”_ He barely manages to send back a wave of surprise and annoyance. She huffs in exasperation.

Something about the planet messes with the Falcon’s sensors, getting worse and worse as she gets closer, so she has to rely on the Force and what she can see to land. Ben's presence leads her to an area of the planet that's clearly just been the site of a battle, the red surface scarred from weapons and thousands of soldiers. She can't land next to him because of the huge, gnarled trees that are scattered in the area, so in frustration, she sets the Falcon down as close as she can. She's out of the ship before the ramp has touched the ground.

She can see him, a dark blot on the ground in front of her, and is about to run to his side when he calls out to her.

 _“Stop,”_ he rasps weakly in her head. His body remains immobile. _“The miners set up explosives.”_

She freezes, then extends herself into the Force. Various metals run through the entire surface of the planet, making it difficult to pick out the mechanics of the mines, but now that she's not blindly focused on him, she can carefully sort them out. The placement is random, heavily concentrated in some areas and empty in others and demands her focus.

“Is that what happened to you?” she murmurs, distracted.

_“No. Hux fired on me from my command shuttle when I hesitated. It's what he wanted it to look like though. And hoped the same for you if you came for me. Which you shouldn't have.”_

“Is telling me I shouldn't have come here really the best use of your energy right now?”

_“Is berating me for it the best use of yours?”_

She rolls her eyes, though he has a point. She turns sharply to avoid another cluster of mines.

 _“I nearly had the traitor too,”_ Ben continues, sighing. _“I could have dragged him down, but it was too much at once - “_

“You can tell me all about it once we're back on the Falcon,” Rey interrupts.

Ben groans. _“Of course you brought that ship.”_

“Your mother insisted.”

He groans again, and not just from the reminder of his family. She's gotten close enough that she can see the dark red of his blood staining the bright red earth around him. Her heart skips a beat and she frantically scans the remaining earth between them. Nothing stops her from sprinting the rest of the way to his side, so she does.

She drops to her knees next to him, eyes frantically scanning his form. There are holes in his armor where she expects them, in his side and shoulder and along his legs. There's also one she'd missed in his forearm, and a deep gash near his hairline. He's every paler than she remembers, stark white against his dark hair and clothes. Far, far too much blood surrounds him, staining her knees and then her hands when she presses them against him.

Even if she could drag him back to the Falcon without making things much worse, nothing she has there is enough to fix this. Ben's eyes slowly open, looking sadly up at her. “Rey,” he croaks.

“Shut up,” she says, tears choking the words. She wipes them away. They don't have time for that.

Drawing a deep breath, she places her hands on his chest. She may not have learned much about the philosophy of the Jedi from her research, but she has a much better idea of what the Force is capable of, even if it's mostly from warnings not to use it in those ways. It really is much more than lifting rocks. Deep healing had been cautioned against because of the irreversible ties it could create between Jedi and patient and as interference in the balance of life and death. Neither count is about to concern her.

Centering herself in the Force, she pushes into Ben, letting her senses flow through him. In the background, she hears him protesting and ignores it. His wounds stand out to her like beacons, and she centers on them. Small pieces of metal and debris are embedded in him, the deepest in his side. She starts there. She remembers one of the times she'd hurt herself on Jakku, when she had slipped from her rope and torn her thigh open on a piece of metal. She thinks of how she had bound it tightly, pushing the edges of the wound together, the blood eventually congealing at the edges. Then the tightness as the wound had slowly knit itself back together, how she'd moved carefully to keep it from pulling, the times she she'd changed the scrap used to bind it and seen it gradually closing up. She pushes all of this through to him, imagining the wound closing under her fingers, flesh knitting back together into the way it should be.

She's panting by the time she pulls back from him and examines her work. It's far from perfect: the wound is still open, with the metal that had caused it pushed near the surface, blood slowly leaking out around it. But it's better. She draws herself together and starts on the one in his shoulder.

By the time she finishes the one on his forehead, she feels dizzy and thirsty. She looks down at Ben, hoping for a miracle.

He's still far too pale and his breathing is shallow. “Ben?” she pleads. No answer. She grits her teeth. She didn't do all this to lose him now.

Replacing her hands on his chest, she lets loose. Everything she has left, she forces it into him. The last of it hurts as it drains from her, but she keeps her hands on him until she can't anymore. She collapses next to him. She stares up at the sky, tears blurring her vision. It wasn't enough. It wasn't enough, and now they’re both going to die here. Her vision goes dark just as she feels movement next to her.

-

When she opens her eyes again, all she sees is a pale and black blur. She blinks. Ben's features resolve in front of her. He leans over her, face just above hers, panic spread across it. He pulls back when he notices she's awake.

“Thank the Force,” he sighs, and falls back to her side. They lay together, silent, both barely able to move, until he speaks again. “So this was your plan? Drag yourself out here to Force knows where and kill yourself trying to save me?”

Despite his words, she can hear the overwhelming relief in his tone. “Who's dead?” she says breathlessly. “It was a better plan than yours, which was apparently just to let yourself die.”

“It wasn't so much a plan as an inevitability.” Quiet again. Rey wonders if anything lives on this planet, or if it's all been scared away. “You didn't have to do that Rey. Force healing is dangerous even if you know what you're doing. You could have died; you nearly did - “ He breaks off, panting, voice heavy with emotion.

“I'm fine,” she assures him, though even days without food have never left her so completely drained. The Falcon may as well be on another planet for as far away as it feels. Ben's snort tells her he knows exactly how fine she is. “I'm not ready to give up on you yet, Ben.” He doesn't have anything to say to that.

With a tremendous effort, she rolls herself over to the side, landing on her front on Ben's chest. His eyes widen as he looks down at her in surprise. She lays there for a moment to catch her breath, then reaches up for his shoulders and drags herself up his body. His hands come around her waist to support her, but he has no more strength than she does. After a few minutes, she finally arrives face to face with him.

“You're stuck with me now,” she tells him, gasping. He looks at her in shock, and she leans in to kiss him.

Neither of them can manage much more than pressing their lips against each other at the moment, but it's enough for now. She tucks her head under his chin, sighing happily. One hand of his hands stays at her waist, wrapping around her, while the other moves up to her neck, tracing lines there. He's still cooler than he should be, but the press of their bodies against each other is already making her feel better. Just a short rest, then they can tackle getting off this planet.

-

The sky is darker when Rey wakes up a second time, and Ben is still sleeping under her, the movement of his chest lifting her up and down. She makes a quick assessment of herself and finds that she's not quite as useless as before. Slowly, she slides off of Ben and stands up. Her knees wobble under her, but she doesn't fall. It's not going to be easy or quick, but she should be able to make it to the Falcon. She carefully kneels down and prods Ben. He grunts and swats her hand away. She keeps doing it until he finally opens his eyes, glaring at her in annoyance.

“What,” he grunts. She looks at him with eyebrows raised, and he gradually comes back to himself. She's pleased to see he has enough blood left in him to blush.

“Can you get up?” She holds out a hand to him. He hesitates, then takes it.

It's a balancing act, getting them both off the ground. Neither of them have the strength to support the other, as much as they try, and they end up nearly collapsing on top of each other several times before they make it up. Rey wraps an arm around Kylo's chest, and he slings his over her shoulder. Leaning into each other, they navigate through the minefield back to the Falcon. Ben tries to stop in front of the ramp, but Rey refuses to let him. They hobble their way to the cockpit and fall into the pilot's seats. Rey starts the ship and grabs the comm.

“General?” she says. Leia’s voice comes back almost immediately.

“Rey! We were so worried. Are you okay?”

“I'm fine. We're fine.”

There's a cracking silence before Leia asks, “Your mission was a success?”

Rey looks over at the battered man in the seat next to her. “Yes. I'm not alone. I'm bringing him home.”

 

* * *

 

 

Ben lays on a cot in a makeshift med bay next to Rey. He knows somewhere, his mother is distracting or pacifying the rest of her rebels to keep them from coming in and shooting him on site. At the moment, he can't bring himself to care. He and Rey are curled around each other, various medical equipment surrounding them. Bacta patches have been cut down and placed over the worst of his wounds, and he and Rey are both attached to lines replacing their lost fluids. None of this registers while Rey is tracing the lines of his soul mark on his bare chest. She trails up to his shoulder and down his arm, stopping at the edge of the bacta patch. He hums in question.

“It's going to scar across your mark,” she tells him, disgruntled.

He can't help himself from smiling at her concern. “It'll be okay.”

She huffs, and continues her path. He wraps his arms more tightly around her, smoothing up and down her back. She's drifting off again, he can tell, and he might beat her there. He lets his eyes slip closed.

**Author's Note:**

> I appreciate every comment so much; let me know what you think! And make sure to check out the rest of the works in the exchange. We ended up with over 200 fics this year, which is absolutely incredible. <3
> 
> [yell at me to write on tumblr](http://thewayofthetrashcompactor.tumblr.com)


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